


revenant

by Anonymous



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/F, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, background Chandler/McNamara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Senior year was supposed to be easy for Heather Duke, a reprieve from last prom season’s cavalcade of a supernatural bullshit.Then Veronica Sawyer came back into her life.
Relationships: Heather Duke/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20
Collections: Anonymous





	revenant

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Chronicles of Darkness fusion with the Beast, Geist, and Changeling game lines. An attempt has been made to keep the fic readable for those who have no knowledge of CoD.

In reality, Heather Duke had died alone, her body finally, quietly giving out at her bedroom desk. A Geist, the Withered Poet, had seen her crumble, and pulled her from death with gaunt hands and a whispered bargain. And Duke had accepted, fine print be damned.

But in her nightmares, Heather Chandler towered over her, with talons sharp enough to tear through flesh and enormous wings that blacked out the sky. Duke choked on the thin air of Chandler's domain as much as on her own vomit, convulsing and shuddering as Chandler watched with a golden, piercing gaze, no spectral poet to save her.

Duke awoke heart pounding, covered in sweat. The clock read 3:00am. Would Chandler be up? Fuck it, Duke torn the phone off its base, fingers anxiously tied around the cable, and dialed Chandler's number anyway.

Chandler picked up immediately. "Hello?"

"Promise me--" Her breath hitched. "--that this summer wasn't a fluke. That you won't discard me come Monday."

"Fucking hell, is this going to be a regular thing now?"

"Promise me, Heather."

She sighed, but her voice softened. "Once again, I swear that I will not treat you as I did before. I will listen to what you have to say, and never brush you aside without reason. Okay?"

Duke let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Okay."

"Do you need me to come over? I could be there now, if I used the shortcut."

" _Absolutely not_ ," she hissed, before letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can handle you in your...full glory. Right now."

The talons, wings, and golden eagle eyes hadn't been merely dream symbolism, but one of the many revelations that followed after Duke's death and resurrection.

"I understand. Still up to hanging out with us tomorrow?"

"Of course. Someone has to keep you and Heather out of trouble."

"Good. We need you." Chandler laughed, honey-sweet in a way she usually reserved for McNamara, before hanging up.

And that honey-sweet laugh carried Duke to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Milton's Curios was an aging eyesore, even for Sherwood's "historic" downtown. Rumor had it the place carried all manner of occult and cursed objects, though the stock appeared normal to Duke. The haunted dolls didn't even have a hint of death stain.

"Did you really expect to find anything here?"

"We've been lucky before!" said Heather McNamara, brandishing a cavalry saber from a barrel of similar decorative replicas. One touch from Chandler, and she sheepishly put it back.

"Fifteen minutes, and then we visit that bookstore you like."

"Deal."

The owner, Judy Milton, glared at Duke from the register. Duke glared back. At the edge of her mind, she heard the Poet's raspy chuckle when Judy looked away first.

"Hey, Heather, look at this." McNamara pointed at a gaudy belt made of a murky green leather, adorned with a tarnished silver buckle.

Duke grimaced. "It's hideous. What's so special about it?"

Ignoring the comment, Chandler picked up the belt, eyes flashing gold as she examined it. "It's beautiful." She walked up to the register, armed with fake geniality. "Ms. Milton, how did you acquired such an item?"

"Oh, John brought it in yesterday. Claimed he found it in the woods, though why he said that when it clearly came from his attic is beyond me."

As Chandler charmed Judy for a discount, Duke whispered to McNamara, "Fill me in?"

"It smells fairy-touched. Very floral, but acrid. Which is weird, because there's, like, no fairy shit in Sherwood except for--"

"At least wait until we're not in public to out the poor girl," said Chandler, purchase in hand.

"I can't out her when neither of us even know her name, Heather."

But she didn't continue her explanation, even after they left the shop, instead drawing Duke and Chandler into a conversation about their plans for the school year. If Duke ignored the ghosts wandering down the street, she could pretend the three of them were normal teenagers, worried about tomorrow's classes and excited for homecoming.

Then Chandler stopped in front of a boutique, staring at the mannequin dressed in a blue blazer. When McNamara tugged at Chandler's arm, she did not follow, staying rooted to the spot.

"Earth to Heather?" McNamara frowned as she tapped Chandler on the forehead. "What are you doing?"

She waved McNamara's hand away. "Go on without me. I'll catch up with you later."

"Are you okay? You never want anything blue," Duke added.

"Just an idea. If it becomes something, you'll be the first to know."

Duke and McNamara shared a look. Over the summer, Duke quickly learned that Chandler's _just an idea_ could range from a killer outfit, to planning someone's mental breakdown. McNamara must have decided the idea was closer to the former than the latter, because she glanced around, checking for anyone watching them, before she gave Chandler a quick peck on the cheek. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"I'm buying clothes, no need for dramatics." But Chandler laughed, honey-sweet.

Stinging jealousy pooled within the pit of Duke's stomach as she forced herself to look away. McNamara always had Chandler's affection, had stood beside Chandler as an equal while Duke was crushed underfoot. Sure, Chandler treated Duke better now, but it took her own death, a drag-out brawl, and casting a curse on Chandler to get there. And no matter how many times Chandler promised, the fear she would change her mind lingered.

Meanwhile, she and McNamara were the same breed of monster, and they had been monsters together since freshman year.

"Hey." McNamara put a hand on Duke's shoulder, pulling her out of her dark thoughts. "Weren't we headed to the bookstore?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we were."

"So, what are you looking for this time? I thought you said you weren't going to get anything new until you finished reading Moby Dick again."

"Research. I hate not knowing as much as you and Heather on all of--" She gestured vaguely at McNamara. "All of this."

"Aw, Heather, you know way more about the ghost stuff than we do."

Duke shrugged it off as she pushed open the door. "It's not the same."

Sherwood's used bookstore had two notable features: looming, floor to ceiling haphazardly organized shelves with contents ranging from hot releases to unexpected esoterica, and several cats. McNamara immediately zoned in on the black cat lounging in the window display, cooing and trying to get the cat to accept head scritches.

"I think the mythology and folklore books are in the back. Find me when you're done out here."

McNamara gave Duke a thumbs up. If Duke was lucky, she would find what she wanted and pay for it before McNamara grew tired of playing with the cat.

She walked through the stacks, glancing around for relevant titles, advancing further into the recesses of the store. Now, the books should be right--damn it! She ducked into the next row. A boy had been restocking the shelves, and she recognized the stupid haircut from the asshole who had harassed them at the diner last week. Chandler had intimidated him into leaving, but Duke didn't have that kind of power. Ugh. She'd retreat for now and try again some other time.

At least McNamara had been successful. Duke found her petting not just the black cat, but also an orange tabby. "Oh! Did you find your books already?"

Duke shook her head. "Remember that guy with the stupid hair? He works here."

"So?"

"I can't sneak past him, and I can't scare him with a look like--"

"Heather," She stood up, her entire body taught with focus. "I can help. Let me help."

"Last time you helped me with a creepy boy, you punched him in the face and got us banned from the gas station on Jefferson Avenue for a month. I refuse to be banned from the one cool bookstore in Sherwood."

"I wasn't planning too. I can be subtle sometimes, I promise!"

Duke eyed her wearily, but relented with a sigh. "Okay, fine."

She led McNamara to the spot, and together they hid behind the shelves of the adjacent row. The boy was still there, still restocking. Then he paused. From his pants pocket, he pulled out a flask. McNamara grinned. "This makes things easier."

The scent crashed over Duke like a wave: ocean brine and a faint tang of blood. Then a sudden blast of air ripped it away. The wind sped down the aisle, kicking up dust and debris. Shelves wobbled. The boy, open flask to his mouth, froze in confusion.

Too late.

He stumbled under the force of the wind. He lost his grip on the flask. As it flew through the air, a stream of amber liquid arced out, hanging for a moment before, inevitably, soaking his head and shirt.

"What the motherfucking hell was that!?" he screamed. "What the fuck!"

Should they run? Duke didn't sign up to deal with a pissed off asshole.

And then, a gasp. In front of the entrance to the employee only area was the owner. "I don't appreciate such language on the clock, young man."

Duke watched on with growing awe as the owner pulled him into the employee only area, lecturing all the while.

"See," McNamara said. "No punching!"

Duke rolled her eyes. "I would hardly call that subtle." But it worked, and, knowing the owner's temperament, she would never see the boy in here ever again. "...thanks, Heather."

The shelf held a few noteworthy titles, like annotated copies of _The Odyssey_ and _The Theogony_ , but she had already read _The Odyssey_ for class last year and _The Theogony_ didn't sound appealing.

"How about this?" McNamara pointed to a book simply titled _More English Fairy Tales_.

"Sure, I'll take it." She was still intrigued about whoever in their school was fairy-touched.

McNamara recommended a few more books, some which Duke demanded explanation for. By the time McNamara had finished, Chandler, successful in her mysterious clothing purchases, had found them, and put in her own thoughts.

That night, Duke dreamed of Tam Lin, wearing Duke's blazer like a cloak around his shoulders. Though, when she woke up, she swore Tam Lin had been Veronica Sawyer.


End file.
